


Pictures on the Wall

by Tea (graychalk)



Category: Hana Yori Dango | Boys Over Flowers (manga & anime)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Friendship, High School, Next Generation, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2002-03-21
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graychalk/pseuds/Tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different story of another time in the HYD universe. The original F4 has graduated and the title has been passed down to the generations after, bringing along new beginnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through the Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

> **Story Introduction:**
> 
> Just to be clear, _Pictures on the Wall_ is not in any way a continuation of Hana Yori Dango, nor is it the type of next-gen fic that's about the cast's future children. Instead, this fic is based off of the premise that the title, F4, has become something like a mantle after the original ones have graduated. The next generation of new F4, so to speak, with a new story.
> 
> What this means is, the main characters are all original and newly created. Characters from the original series, when mentioned, will mostly be done peripherally - either due to familial relations or just because they share the same universe and the rich will always mingle with the rich. So, yes, familiar names will pop up, but I just want to be clear from the start that they likely won't ever have huge roles (but maybe influencing ones, if that makes sense).
> 
> For those of you who didn't speed-hit the back button at the first mention of original characters and is actually considering on giving this fic a chance, I hope you will enjoy it. Comments are always welcome. Thank you. :)

**Prologue**

.

_When nothing else is left, we can only try once more._

.

Standing on the curb of the airport's passenger pick-up area, she watched the driver load her things into the trunk. There was only one suitcase and a small carry-on bag, miscellaneous things she had lived off of during the past year.

She allowed her gaze to wander a little, eyes noting all the things that should be familiar but it only seemed to make their strangeness all the more glaring. Two years since she had last set foot in Japan. Somehow, it felt much longer, and yet altogether too soon.

Something drew her attention back to the driver then, and she stared at him blankly at first, taking in the strange look he was giving her.

"Miss Ishida?"

Blinking, she found herself staring at the car door before turning back to the man who was holding it open for her. Her lips parting, she hesitated and shook her head slightly to ground herself. Finally, with a faint nod of gratitude, she climbed into the backseat of the car and sighed. _Ishida_ was a name she had to get used to from now on.

Leaning back against the hard leather, she took a deep calming breath and let her eyes drift shut as the car pulled away from the curb. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there unmoving, but eventually a bump on the ride jolted her eyelids open to the backside of the front seat. They had arrived in the city, she knew.

Outside the window, trees and buildings blurred together like a fast-forwarded movie. Yet, she remembered the scenery in such detail that she had to wonder if anything had changed at all. It was as though someone had pushed a pause button two years ago and forgot to hit play again.

If only Japan had changed beyond recognition. Perhaps, then, she could have believed it was possible to start over.

Why had she not fought harder against coming back to a place that had ruined her life so thoroughly?

Instead, here she sat counting turns even as her chest tightened painfully at the sight of increasingly familiar structures.

Left. Right. Right again - breath hitching - _there_. _There_.

Eirin Academy.

It glared at her with its looming brick walls, until the walls bled into an entrance, and the entrance became a swarm of people - all of them pressing and yelling, as disorienting as the flashes from cameras that kept snapping like they had a life of their own. Then they, too, turned into a set of gray eyes staring straight back at her identical ones, with blood streaking down a pale face - the colors so vivid it made her jerk backwards, blinking rapidly.

Eyes stinging and heart pounding, she dug her nails into her arm and wrenched her gaze away from the window. It was only a trick of light. There was nobody there. Just an empty school entrance mocking in its silence at this time of the year.

She looked down and tried to pull herself together, fixing her eyes on the piece of paper lying open on her lap like it was her lifeline.

 

_Dear Miss Ishida Nao,_

_We are pleased to hear that you will be joining us at Eitoku Gakuen for our upcoming school year. Enclosed, you will find a booklet detailing the school's code of conduct and a list of things you will need for your classes. We would also like to remind you to fill out the following forms..._

_  
_

And in another time, another place - one way or another - her life would have to start over somehow.

 


	2. Eitoku Gakuen

In twenty minutes, the long drawl of chimes would echo through the vast campus, signaling the end of second period and bringing with it the ruckus that usually came with the short break between each class. But for now, the hallways were blissfully quiet, the only sound an occasional muffled word or two from behind closed classroom doors.

This was the way Ishida Nao liked it - students occupied in class and she elsewhere. Her favorite, though, was right here on the fourth floor in the east wing. Even better at a time like this, when no art classes were in session. She edged a little closer, one hand reaching forward to hover over the sculpture as her fingers traced an invisible line in the air around its shape.

"Wow." The word hardly even began to describe what she was looking at, but there was really no other way to put it. The corner of her lips lifted. She couldn't wait to ask Yasui-sensei about this piece.

"Don't touch that."

Nao whirled around, one hand clutched at her chest in fright as the other jerked back from the sculpture. She stared, wide-eyed, as a young man stepped into the ceramics classroom and walked towards her in what she could only describe as ominous authority. He gave no visible signs of displeasure apart from the undertone of accusation in his words, but she could sense his irritation all the same.

Dismay washed over her as she took in his appearance - definitely a staff member at the very least, if what he was wearing was any indication. His tie, however, looked markedly out of place around his pristine white button-down shirt with the way it hung crooked and loose as though he had yanked at it in frustration.

"I-" she began, cringing inwardly at the way her voice came out small and guilty when she had done nothing wrong. Forcing her hands back down to her sides, Nao lifted her chin a little and said, "I wasn't going to touch it."

And she _wasn't_. She had certainly reached out towards the sculpture, but it was just a reflex borne from awe than some intention to sabotage it like the man seemed to think she was about to do. The mere idea grated on her nerves - she did know better than to touch other people's unfinished artwork after all.

His expression was bland, though there was a touch of impatience in the way his eyes slid from hers to the sculpture sitting on the table behind her. He had yet to say anything else, but it was clear he was checking the sculpture for damage.

And that really pissed her off.

"There's nothing wrong with the sculpture," Nao blurted before she could stop herself. "I did _not_ touch it."

At her insistent words, his attention honed in on her again and she had to resist the urge to fidget under his silent scrutiny. She stared back up at him - his eyes dark, slanting down at her - but Nao refused to look away less he thought it was a sign of guilt.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked, his voice a smooth baritone that managed to sound both quiet and imposing at the same time. "No one is supposed to be here right now."

She felt herself deflate a little even as she gave an inward curse. He obviously knew there were no art classes scheduled for this period, and the last thing she needed was to get in trouble, especially with her track record already teetering on the red line.

"I'm sorry, sir, I really wasn't trying to disturb anything. I just- I forgot my book," she replied in a rush, then immediately wanted to kick herself. The excuse sounded lame even to her ears, but there was no backing out of it now. Grabbing the first book her fingers came upon from inside her bag, she raised it up like a badge of proof and declared stiffly, "And now that I have it, I shall be out of your way."

His gaze flickered to the book, one eyebrow rising slightly, and Nao felt a brief moment of panic - what book had she grabbed? A quick glance told her it was her English textbook, which was actually perfect because that was what she was having next. Her relief turned into annoyance then. This guy, teacher or not, had a serious way of getting under her skin and making her feel like she was two.

She looked down, making a show of stuffing the book back into her bag, though it was more to hide the scowl on her face than anything. Finally, confident that she could school her face into a polite smile, she gave him a tiny bow to take her leave. "Please excuse me," she murmured. "I should get going."

He nodded, almost lazily, with his head tilted towards the door as though to say _'go ahead'_ and Nao wasted no time in getting out of there. The back of her neck prickled the entire time, and had she looked back at him, she wouldn't have been surprised to see his eyes following her out.

Then right as she reached the door, he called out in that same calm tone of his, "It's your business if you want to cut classes, but don't let me catch you in here again."

Her back stiffened, the only indication that she had heard him, and she picked up her pace before he decided it was his business to take her name down after all. If the foreboding feeling eating at the pit of her stomach was anything to go by, this was going to somehow come back and bite her something painful.

Shaking her head to banish the thought, Nao rounded the corner that would take her towards the high school campus, in the opposite direction from the route she had taken the previous year. The senior high division, she decided as she took in the wide hallways, was much larger than the junior high section.

She glanced up, noting the signs hanging above the classroom doors as she double-checked her schedule, and slowed her steps when she spotted the one she was looking for. The door was open - perfect. She still had some time before third period began, but an empty classroom was definitely preferable to the risk of running into another teacher in the hallway.

Or not.

She heard them before she even set foot into the classroom, voice nasally cute and tones boastfully nonchalant. Really, had she used to sound this stupid?

"Wow, Mayu, that's a gorgeous necklace!"

"Isn't it? There's only fifty of these in the world, you know. I made Papa get it for my birthday when we went to Venice over the break."

Creepily imposing teachers be damned. This was enough to make her want to turn around and walk right back to the art rooms. But they had already noticed - heads with perfectly styled hair swiveling towards her, staring - and any expression Nao may have had on her face shuttered instantly.

She spared them a passing glance, eyes deliberately sweeping the otherwise empty classroom as though they were part of the furniture. The choice was obvious - there was no choice at all. Shouldering her bag, Nao stepped through the doorway and crossed the room, eyes sharp and chin defiantly straight. The voices became hushed undertones, the kind people whispered and thought they were being discreet.

_"I heard-"_

_"Ishida Nao- isn't she-"_

_"That girl from-"_

_"What is she doing he-"_

She slapped her bag down on the desk with a definite bang and took vicious pleasure in the way they jumped, shooting her a dirty look. She ignored them. A silent moment later, one of the girls gave an offended sniff and cleared her throat to resume their conversation on pretty watches and limited edition necklaces. Satisfied that they were going to leave her alone for the most part, Nao slid into the seat at the far back corner by the window.

"You're so lucky, Mayu! I wish I had picked English earlier too. I spent the whole break studying with an American tutor just so I could test into this class. It was pure nightmare."

"Me too! Ahh, it's hard switching over from German in third year after all, but it's going to be _so_ worth it."

"Isn't it? I can't believe I'm actually _finally_ going to be in the same class as Kurosawa-san and Morishita-san! I wonder if Kurosawa-san would-"

Nao rolled her eyes and crammed earphones into her ears, punching play on her MP3 player to drown out the dribble. She drew in a deep, steadying breath and turned to look out the window. They told her this was a difficult class to get into, but apparently, that didn't stop idiots from slipping through anyway. The first sign of intelligence, and of course it had to be motivated by some guy or another, no doubt a ridiculously rich one.

What was she expecting? That they were older, more likely not to know or pay attention to a first year like her, more likely to be sensible? She should have known better than to expect any different.

At the suggestion of her junior high English teacher, Nao had gone ahead and taken the opportunity to test into this class - one of the few in Eitoku's senior high curriculum that allowed students to be placed according to their level of proficiency. Any class where she didn't have to deal with people from her year could only be a good thing, or so she thought. She gave a mental snort. It was obviously a brief lapse of sanity.

This was _Eitoku Gakuen_. What class, what year - it had never mattered to begin with.

. . . . .

"Yasui-sensei?"

The art teacher leaned back and peered around the cabinet door, looking harassed with strands of peppered hair escaping the bun she held up with a paintbrush. The vague lines of irritation smoothed, then disappeared, replaced by a surprised smile upon seeing him. "Isao, what are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you until later."

A corner of his lips lifted at the oddly comforting sight even as Yasui-sensei stepped back and patted her hands on an apron that looked like it wrestled with a bucket of paint and came out losing. He shrugged. "My meeting with the board of directors ended early. It's too late to attend second period now, but I figured there was still enough time to come by and check if you were loading the kiln." He paused, eyeing the teacher's paint-stained hands. "What happened?"

Yasui-sensei looked down at her ' _Perylene Maroon'_ hands, made another half-hearted attempt at wiping them against the apron, and finally gave up with a sigh. "An over-zealous junior high student taking art for the first time happened."

"I see." Isao tried to keep the amusement from creeping into his voice but knew he failed when she shot him an exasperated frown. Trying for placating, he offered instead, nodding at the open cabinet, "Do you need help with anything?"

"No, it's fine," the teacher replied, waving him off and eyeing the haphazard cluster of canvases on the table behind him. He dodged just in time, lips twitching into a grin, as she dove forward and descended on the pile.

After spending the entire break working at his father's company, the familiarity of the painting room's perpetual clutter and the sight of Yasui-sensei in her constant state of frenzy was ironically calming. He looked around, a little wistful. Even the nostalgia that often accompanied a first visit to the art rooms after a long break was familiar, though he hadn't quite expected to feel a mild sense of anxiety as well. This, he thought, would be the last year he'd have the luxury to use the art rooms as he pleased.

"Oh," Yasui-sensei said, voice muffled from behind a shelf so that all he saw was a hand gesturing vaguely at the wall that separated the ceramics room from this one. "Your piece is already on the table, ready to go. I'll have it loaded with the rest of the pots later today- you're done with it, right?

Isao nodded. "I covered it back up for the time being though." With a sigh, he added, "Someone was in there just now."

The teacher's head popped up. "Again? At this hour on the first day of school? They're certainly getting quite daring."

He shrugged wearily, thinking of the girl he had just run into. She was the fourth one, now, that he had caught sneaking around the art section since that one time, late last term, when a female student had walked in on him while he was working on a sculpture after school hours. As it was, Yasui-sensei had been forced to chase off a few as well.

Something about this latest one seemed a little off, he'd give her that. Isao recalled the way she brandished the textbook - _Advanced English III_ , no less - and wondered what the girl was playing at. After all, it was no secret he took that class.

Shaking her head, Yasui-sensei commented dryly, "I should just put up a large sign by the door- _'Kurosawa Isao is not here.'_ " Something in his face must've revealed the horror he felt at her suggestion because she suddenly laughed, amending, "I was kidding, Isao."

"Yasui-sensei, that's not-" Isao stopped short, momentarily distracted by a splash of color on canvas. Words he had been about to say took a sudden detour, "That's- that's new."

"What?" The art teacher looked back up, following his line of sight as comprehension dawned on her face, and then surprise. "I didn't realize you know Nao."

The painting was still wet. He could tell by the lingering sheen, a little slick in the way its surface reflected off the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"I-" Isao hesitated, uncertain. "I don't."

And he didn't, but he knew the paintings. Haunting, piercing, and always familiar. Like weight, heavy in his chest.

His feet moved towards it, and up close, he saw the colors were less vibrant, the strokes mostly still a sketch. It was only the beginnings of an image just starting to take shape, sharp in some areas and vague in others, but he recognized the style all the same. "This is a private workspace, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Her name is Ishida Nao - that's her latest work," Yasui-sensei offered, gesturing at the painting as she came up beside him, "but I suppose you already know that. Quite a talented girl, this one."

There was fondness in her voice but also something else, something more muted that made him shift his attention to the art teacher beside him, but whatever it was, it had already gone. Isao opened his mouth, more out of a need to say something and less of actually having something to say. He ended up frowning instead.

He was curious. That much was certain. For countless times last year, he had sought out the paintings propped up in this corner of the room, each and every single one telling him stories and emotions he sometimes felt he had no business knowing. Isao had never met the artist, nor did he have the faintest idea who in Eitoku could have painted them. Yet for reasons he wouldn't be able to explain, he hadn't wanted to ask.

"Well," Yasui-sensei said, startling him out of his thoughts, "Nao just started senior high this year, so I imagine you'll run into her eventually."

"Oh." Isao nodded, a slow dip of chin. It wasn't the most creative of responses, but it was all he could come up with.

Yasui-sensei peered at him, a smile blooming on her face - the one that told him she was about to say something he wasn't going to like. "I could introduce you," she suggested, tone innocent yet managed to have insinuation draped all over it somehow.

Isao thought his jaw may have twitched. "That will not be necessary, Sensei. In fact, I would prefer it if you didn't."

The teacher only laughed. "You really need to loosen up a little, Isao. I think you'll like her."

Then before he could even formulate a proper response, she cleared her throat, prim but firm the way teachers did when they were about to reprimand an errant student. Tilting her head to the side and looking over his shoulders, she called out, "Aren't you boys too old to be hiding behind shelves, eavesdropping on other people's conversations?"

A crash sounded behind him, shrill and wince-inducing. Isao pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I told you she saw us." The voice was dry.

"Come _on_ , don't try to act like _you_ didn't want to know."

Isao sighed. He muttered, not bothering to turn around, "Satoshi, when are you going to grow up?"

"Soo..." the syllable stretched, brimming of suggestive purpose and completed with a nudge to his ribs as Ryusaki Satoshi sidled up to his side, wiggling his eyebrows. "Isao. What's this about a girl you'll like?"

Isao pinned him with an irritated look, but Satoshi was already gliding over to Yasui-sensei and reaching over to take one of her hands as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do. "Sensei, don't tell me you've been holding out on us! Is she pretty? When can we-" He blinked. "Sensei, what happened to your hands? It's, uh, purple. You should _really_ get that cleaned ASAP."

Isao squashed down the bubbling urge to choke the life out of something - preferably the boy standing in front of him. "Stop being an idiot, Satoshi," he said instead. "What are you guys doing here anyway?"

"Oh," Satoshi said, jerking a thumb at the taller boy slouching against the sink counter, "we just got here. It took us forever to wake his lazy ass."

As if proving his point, Morishita Shun yawned and scratched the back of his neck, looking for all the world like he'd rather be horizontal. He shrugged, unapologetic. "I had a late night."

Satoshi gave a dramatic roll of eyes. "In case you forgot, Kanjirou and I were with you. You don't see us snoring like logs, do you?"

"No," Shun agreed, slowly, "because logs don't snore, Satoshi."

Isao shook his head. It was much too early for this. Sometimes he forgot how he became friends with these people at all. Beside him, Yasui-sensei tittered, obviously much more amused by their antics than he was. He sighed, deciding it was best to just ignore them.

"Sorry, Yasui-sensei. We'll get out of your way now." He paused to consider his schedule for the day. "I should be able to come by around lunch to help you load the kiln - it's a pretty big piece this time."

The art teacher waved dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I know what the first day of school is like for you."

There wasn't anything to say to that, but she gave him a reassuring smile all the same and patted him lightly on the arm in understanding. She had always understood, just like how she had always been able to see him beyond the Kurosawa name. That in itself made a world of difference to him.

Isao inclined his head at the teacher to take his leave, then turned to his two still-bickering friends. "Satoshi, Shun," he nodded at the door, "we're leaving." He glanced at the counter where the last of their group, Akita Kanjirou, sat leaning back against the window, content in his silence. "Are you coming?"

For an odd moment there, it almost looked like Kanjirou hesitated, but he only eyed the unfinished painting briefly before sliding off the counter and ducking his head at the art teacher apologetically. "Please excuse us, Yasui-sensei. I hope we weren't intruding."

Isao didn't stay behind, heading instead for the hallway where the other two stood waiting. He trusted Kanjirou to follow as soon as the boy felt an acceptable amount of pleasantries had been exchanged, unfailingly polite as he tended to be.

He did, however, glance one last time at the painting as he walked out - a mere floating figure of a girl suspended mid-canvas, curling into herself - and wondered what story this one would tell when finished.

. . . . .

The first bell had probably just gone off, judging by the number of students trickling into the class at last. Nao sighed, softly, just the tiniest release of breath against her lips. Leaning forward and propping her elbows on the desk, she rested her chin against an open palm and turned her eyes back to the window.

Ten more minutes till the second bell.

And three more years till the last bell - till she could finally get out of this place for good. It seemed to stretch far into the abyss, blurred together and dark, like a deep well she couldn't see the bottom to.

Music still blaring in her ears, Nao couldn't hear the shuffling of feet nor the inane chattering but she could sense students settling into empty seats around the room. The ones immediately surrounding hers remained empty, and she smiled grimly. Pity those who would be arriving late.

It didn't bother her that most people went out of their way to avoid her. She rather preferred it, encouraged it even. She knew better than anyone else, the kind of people that went to a school like this one. She remembered it all too well to ever forget. And the less she had to do with any of them, the better off her life would be.

The song playing on her MP3 player faded to an end and a roar of laughter interrupted her thoughts, slightly muffled by her earphones, before the next song drowned it out again. It was then Nao felt something bounce off her arm, landing on her desk and rolling to a stop by her left hand.

She stared down at it, lips drawn tight. It was only a crumpled piece of gum wrapper, but the laughter she had just heard rose in her head without warning. Twisting, familiar, like echoes of upturned trash and half-eaten food smearing on skin- she squeezed her eyes shut, once and hard, to ground herself to the present.

 _Just a crumpled piece of gum wrapper_ , she reminded silently. It had already been three years... why couldn't she just forget it already?

Suddenly annoyed, Nao snatched the wayward gum wrapper off her desk and turned to locate its source when, eyes widened, she went completely still. Her heart ground to a halt even as the familiar prickle at the back of her neck flared to life.

He shouldn't be here. What the hell was he doing here?

Yet, there he sat, leaning casually against one of the desks by the far wall, with eyes dark, unfathomable, and staring right back into hers. Dread crawled up her spine. Had he _followed_ her here?

Then, slow and deliberate, an eyebrow rose in that same infuriating manner as he had done back in the ceramics room when she had shown him her textbook. The very same one, Nao realized with sudden appalling clarity, as the identical copy on his desk, resting under his arm and _mocking_ her.

She could not believe it.

The self-righteous bastard wasn't a teacher - he wasn't _even_ a student teacher. And he actually had the audacity to sit there, draped over his chair like it was made for him, and _raise his eyebrow at her._

Her eyes narrowed. And for a moment, all he did was look right back at her - neither acting nor reacting, until, just slightly, he tilted his head and one corner of his lips quirked faintly, like he was amused.

Her fists clenched, the wad of gum wrapper crinkling under her fingers, and Nao wasn't sure what possessed her to do it, but her arm surged up with a life of its own and hurled the offending thing across the room at him before she had the chance to stop and reel in the uncharacteristic impulse.

A flicker of unchecked surprise flashed across his face, and Nao didn't know which was worse - the fact that she had actually resorted to launching crude, childish aerial attacks at strangers, or the fact that she missed her mark by so wide a margin it was painful to watch.

It shot through the air, skidded off a shoulder, and parked itself atop the head of a lanky boy that looked like he had been trying to sleep. Nao watched, half in distress and half in morbid interest, as the boy's hand snaked up to swat the gum wrapper off his brown hair before he unfolded himself with an irritated jerk. However, instead of turning towards her as she had expected him to, he simply started talking, clearly annoyed.

Vaguely aware that she still had music playing, Nao pulled at the wires and popped the earphones off in time to catch the end of his tirade-

" _-mmit,_ I'm trying to sleep here, Satoshi! What are you doing in our class anyway- don't you have French?"

His voice was unusually loud, and it took a moment for her to realize that it was actually the noise level in the class that was oddly subdued, like the room had quieted down just to hear the boy talk.

Someone giggled. And then it was like the entire class bled into view, coming to life all at once: the irritated boy reclining back on his chair - long legs sprawled out and one hand sweeping a cluster of crumpled paper off his desk; the other boy - _Satoshi_ \- sitting one seat up (and was that actually a girl perched on his lap?) with his chair facing backwards and gum wrappers in hand; the large group loitering about - close by and yet not too close like they were awed by the mere opportunity to breathe the same air those boys were breathing; and finally, _him_ , at the center of it all, still leaning casually against his desk, looking at her looking at him. As though she hadn't just tried but failed to murder him with gum wrapper.

None of those three were wearing school uniforms.

"Oye, Shun, _that_ one wasn't me," Satoshi said in a tone that sounded like he couldn't quite believe it. Then he grinned and jabbed a finger at her. "She did it."

Nao froze under the force of what felt like a hundred heads spinning around to stare at her - some in shock, others in alarm, but mostly, it was just plain and simple horror, like she had committed a crime worthy of capital punishment. Her face blanked immediately even as the boy called Shun twisted his head back and gave her the barest hint of a frown, his sharp eyes sizing her up somewhat languidly.

She returned his gaze evenly, ignoring everything and everyone else. Something niggled at the back of her mind, like a crucial detail she needed to remember but wasn't sure what. She only knew with certainty that she wouldn't - _couldn't_ show any weaknesses here.

"Sorry," Nao finally said, shrugging carelessly, "it was an accident."

"Whoa," Satoshi mused, blue eyes dancing, "if that was an accident, I'd like to see the one where-"

"Satoshi-" Nao stiffened just as a gasp sounded from somewhere to her left. "-go to your class."

She sat completely still, not turning even as every head pivoted away from her, towards the voice - towards _him_. She didn't have to. She'd be able to recognize that voice anywhere.

The tone was quietly commanding, cold even - the kind that brooked no argument, but Satoshi only shrugged good-naturedly. He stood, depositing the girl that had been on his lap over to the seat he had just occupied, and grinned. "Bye bye, Kaneko-chan," he sing-songed, his voice an unexpected deep bass that was at odds with both the playful way he used it and his overall devils-may-care demeanor. And then he walked off, stretching, as the door swung shut behind him with an echoing _click_.

There was a beat of silence, and then there was a squeak - male, high-pitched - its owner's presence so unexpected that Nao did a double-take.

"Ah, ex- excuse me," stuttered the middle-aged man that stood hovering at the front of the class, half-gripping and half-hugging a leather briefcase to his chest in a way that reminded Nao of a drowning man clutching a sinking plank of wood.

"Watabe-sensei."

It was the voice again, and Nao was beginning to think he spoke just to haunt her with it.

"Please allow me to apologize," he continued in a tone that sounded surprisingly polite. It was all Nao could do to stare stupidly at him as he stood with his back straightened, all traces of arrogant amusement gone as his head dipped towards the teacher in a manner that fell somewhere between courtesy and distant respect. "We didn't realize you had arrived."

The teacher's mouth dropped open, moving soundlessly, once, twice, and a brief image of the man choking to his death flitted through Nao's head. It was so quiet she could hear herself breathe. And then it was as if the teacher sputtered to life, words tumbling over each other, nervous and loud, "Ah, no! Ku- I mean- _it's not a problem_ , Kurosawa-san!"

Nao grimaced. What was _wrong_ with him? She glanced back at the boy - at _Kurosawa_ \- but if he had any thoughts about the teacher's reaction, it wasn't apparent on his face. Instead, his eyes flickered towards her, briefly and so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it.

"There should be no more interruptions," Kurosawa said, pausing slightly as a small smile grew on his lips. _What the hell?_ Had he just implied what she thought he implied? "Please do begin as I'm sure the class is eager to get started."

"Ye- yes, of course!" The teacher babbled, jumping a little and trying simultaneously to fumble with the clasp on his suitcase and bow deeply - the kind that teachers weren't supposed to ever give students. "Thank you, Kurosawa-san! It is such an _honor_ to have you in my class!"

Nao closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. She just couldn't bear to watch any longer. It was like one obnoxiously surreal horror after another. She reached down and began shoving her things back into her bag in a steady, mechanical motion. And then she stood, aware that every single pair of eyes were on her once more. She bowed swiftly at the teacher with just the proper amount of apology.

"Please excuse me," she said, "I think I'm in the wrong class."

Then without looking at anyone else, she left the room.

She'd go by the Counseling and Placement Office later and tell them the class was more difficult than she had expected. She wouldn't even really be lying - this, _him_ \- it wasn't what she signed up for.

It took the absurdity of the teacher's actions to grind home what she had already known but forgotten. After all, it was a commonly known fact.

The only students at Eitoku who didn't wear uniforms were the F4.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other than the grounds, the café, the various hallways and classrooms, Kamio-sensei had never really gone into much detail regarding what Eitoku's curriculum or campus is like (not that I know of anyway), so I've taken liberties to play around a little and hopefully still stay within reason in terms of the Japanese school system.
> 
>  **The campus:** So… Eitoku's campus, the way I've pictured it, goes something like this. It's an escalator school, as we already know, and I've decided that their elementary, junior high, and high school divisions are all in close vicinity of each other. (I think in canon, there was also a university section but I may be confusing the dramas with the manga canon.)
> 
> They, specifically the junior high and senior high divisions, share a couple of facilities - most notably, the arts and sports sections, but their schedules are obviously not the same. I imagine these common grounds falling somewhere in between the two, meaning one would be able to reach the other division by crossing over through these areas that they share. The elementary division, on the other hand, is a bit more secluded due to their vastly different needs, though they still do occupy the same grounds - just a bit further of a trek is all.
> 
>  **The classes:** In terms of classes, I also see the senior high division being a bit more competitive, yet flexible in regards to certain classes the students take - specifically the ones that are outside of the core year subjects like math, science, history and such. It's supposed to be an extremely prestigious private school filled with children from all the richest in Japan. So, going along that vein, I've turned foreign language into one of those classes where you'd be able to test for a higher level if your capabilities allow it. This is why Nao was placed in the same English class as Isao, along with a mix of other 2nd and 3rd years despite being only a 1st year.


	3. Pride and Prejudice

Eyes closed and face tilted towards the sky, Nao took a moment to relish in the warmth of sunlight streaming through the panel of glass that felt too much like prison bars right then. It really was a beautiful day, the kind that marked it as decidedly April in Tokyo, when cherry blossoms bloomed in its full glory and students ventured out to begin yet another school year.

For her, it only seemed to make her remember.

"Bloom like a sakura tree, Nao," her mother used to say on the first day of a new school year. She would stand by the front door, tall and beautiful and smiling. And Nao would laugh, waving as the car pulled out of the driveway.

It was their inside joke, its beginning going far back to when Nao had first become old enough to attend kindergarten. She had cried for days at the prospect of separating from her mother to face an unknown, until her mother took her for a walk in their garden and pointed out the pale pink petals that had barely just begun to bloom.

"Do you know why children start school when the sakura trees bloom?" she had asked. When Nao shook her head, still hiccuping, her mother had smiled like she had a great secret to share. "So that little girls like you," she said, tapping her on the nose, "can bloom beautifully at school too."

A small, bitter smile flitted across Nao's lips at the memory. She had indeed bloomed, too, once.

Leaning forward and touching her forehead to the cool glass of the wide window, Nao's eyes sought out the impressive row of pink on brown four stories down. There, Eitoku's main entrance stood proudly, giving way to the sakura trees that arced the long path leading towards the street beyond the campus gate. The flowers had bloomed earlier than usual this year, and already, the blossoms were beginning to flutter to the ground.

She traced a finger along the scar on her face, a faint groove across her right cheek. Perhaps it was fitting. Cherry blossoms, while known for its breathtaking beauty, had always been equally known for its fleeting nature - for its quick death. Sometimes, she wondered if the irony had occurred to her mother as well.

It probably had.

_Bloom like a sakura tree, Nao._

Her mother had not said those words to her again, not for three years now.

Nao turned away from the window with a sigh. She was dwelling again.

Gray eyes settling back on the room, she took in the paint-stained tables, buckets of paintbrushes, and the stacks of canvases leaning against the wall. _At least_ , Nao thought, _there is this_.

Even at the beginning of a new school year with the painting room looking its neatest, it was still a bit of a mess. But this was how she preferred it - flawed, familiar, _real_. Eyes softening a little at the thought, she slid off the counter lining the base of the window and inhaled deeply, savoring the turpentine-filled air even as it stung her nose and made her lungs protest.

She eyed the unfinished painting she had started earlier that morning, more than a little annoyed with herself. Having nowhere else to go after walking out of English class, she had ended up here. But despite spending most of third period trying to coax the image in her head onto the canvas, the only thing she had managed to do was give it an unmotivated dab or two. Not quite willing to give up yet, she reached for a paintbrush but ended up jumping about a foot in the air when a purple hand appeared, wriggling an inch away from her nose. She scurried backwards so quickly it was a wonder she didn't trip.

"Yasui-sensei!" Nao wheezed, hands fumbling to yank her earphones off. Breath still heaving, she fanned herself and tried to swallow. "I think I just lost a chunk of my soul."

The art teacher chuckled. "You kids and technology these days," she said, finger tapping Nao's earphones, "with things like this stuck in your ears all day long and getting lost in your own world."

"That's kind of the point," said Nao, a little wryly.

"Wander too far off and one day, you're going to wake up old like me and realize you've missed life altogether," the older woman warned, though her tone was only half-serious.

Nao grinned, shrugging a little guiltily. Secretly, she thought that wouldn't be too bad at all. If there was anything she wanted to miss, it'd be her farce of a life.

Yasui-sensei shook her head and smiled. Then she reached out and ruffled Nao's hair, one eyebrow raised. "Still trying to look as outrageous as ever, I see. That's quite a color you've got there."

"Ah." She gave an awkward laugh and picked at the strands of her short, flaming red hair. "I just wanted a change."

"People are going to really think you're a delinquent if you keep this up." Yasui-sensei frowned at all the art materials spread out on the table. "How long have you been in here? I know you have me next, but third period doesn't end for another fifteen minutes."

"Uh," she hedged, "not that long?"

Yasui-sensei gave her a measured look, and just when Nao thought she might get in trouble, the teacher turned abruptly, beckoning. "Come," she said, "I still have a couple more things to do next door."

Eyebrows furrowing, Nao hurried after the teacher. Making a hard right, her footsteps slowed as she warily stepped into the adjacent ceramics room.

_It's your business if you want to cut classes, but don't let me catch you in here again._

The warning rose unbidden in her head and she scowled. She really didn't know where that Kurosawa got off reprimanding her and then talking as if he owned this place. What's more, he had obviously been cutting classes himself if he was also here to begin with. F4 or not, if he tried that crap with her again, she was going to rip him a new one.

Her gaze trailed over to the sculpture that was at the crux of it all. It was still sitting at the same spot on one of the long tables in the middle of the room, the only difference being the large opaque sheet of black plastic that draped over it and shielded the sculpture completely from view. Belatedly, she realized Yasui-sensei was making a direct beeline for the sculpture, obviously expecting her to follow.

"Here," the art teacher said, hands already reaching over to lift the plastic covering as one would with a veil, "help me with this. I need to move it to the kiln room before the students start arriving."

Nao hesitated, her breath catching as the sculpture came into view, the same way it had that morning when she first caught sight of what she could only describe as a magnificent art piece.

It was about a foot and a half tall, made up of unbaked white clay pieced together to form five faces - the same and yet entirely different ones - pushing outwards at various angles so that no matter where she stood, it'd provide a unique view wholly unlike the one she'd see if she had been standing just a step over to the side.

"It's heavier than it looks," Yasui-sensei cautioned. Then moving behind the sculpture, she instructed, "Here, take that side but don't lift it until I tell you to."

Nao nodded and moved closer to the piece, more than a little irked by the sudden irrational sense of apprehension making itself known, in much the same way the shadow of a figure materializing to loom over her might.

_Don't touch that._

She slid her hands under the foot of the sculpture - _Ha!_ _Take_ _this!_ \- and resisted the crazy urge to pat down the whole thing with her hands just to spite the voice in her head. Distantly, she was aware of how childish she was being, but she couldn't help it any more than she could explain it.

When the sculpture had been securely relocated to a shelf inside the room where most of the pottery were fired, Nao took a step back and gave it another appreciative glance. "This is amazing," she breathed reverently. "Is it yours, Yasui-sensei?"

"Oh no, definitely not," the teacher replied with a laugh, like the idea itself was something incredible. "The artist is actually a third year student. He's not enrolled in any of the art classes, but he helps out around here, and in exchange, I let him work on whatever he wants to on his own time."

That was... unexpected. She couldn't imagine anyone in Eitoku possessing the skill or talent to create something like this, never mind the dedicated interest and effort it would obviously require if what the art teacher said was true.

"That reminds me," Yasui-sensei said as she checked the time on her watch and moved to leave the kiln room, "now that you're in high school, I've been meaning to ask if you want the student aide position. The art department could certainly use one more."

"You want me to be your aide?" Nao echoed. "But-" she stopped, unsure.

She had always assumed the student aide positions were offered to older students. Besides, she wasn't even sure if she was qualified to be one. Although she knew about the painting side of things well enough, her experience with ceramics was still not up to par in her opinion.

"Sure," Yasui-sensei continued, "you've always helped out next door. Why not get credit for it now that you can? It'll be useful for your records when you apply to art schools later - that _is_ what you want to do, isn't it?"

"Well... yes," she replied slowly. The thought of returning to New York and attending an art school there after leaving Eitoku was sometimes the only thing that kept her going. And now that she had gotten over the initial shock, she could feel herself getting excited at the idea of officially helping out around here.

"Then it's settled," the teacher said firmly, all the while keeping up a brisk pace as she walked out of the ceramics classroom and down the hall towards the art department's office.

A moment later, Nao found herself standing in front of a desk piled high with graphite pencils, rendering markers, the odd paintbrush or two, and a mountain of sketchbooks that looked like they would slide right off the desk if she breathed at it wrong. Her lips curved upwards at the sight.

"This should also be a good learning opportunity for you," Yasui-sensei said between indecipherable mutters as she rifled through some folders in a filing cabinet. "Your partner's exceptionally talented in ceramics - you'll be able to pick up a lot of things from him."

Nao started. "My partner?"

"The ceramics student aide," Yasui-sensei explained distractedly as she pulled out a piece of paper and squinted at it. "Ah, here it is."

Nao accepted the paper and gave it a once-over. It looked like a pretty straightforward form for enlisting student aides. "Um, about the other aide-"

The school bell rang then, and she suddenly found a stack of brand new sketchbooks heaped onto her arms.

"Well, then!" The teacher rolled up her sleeves, a wide smile on her face. "Here's your first job as my student aide. Make yourself useful and carry that back to the classroom, will you?"

"Sensei, I haven't even filled out the paper yet, you know."

Laughter rang out from behind her as Nao grumbled and walked back to class, arms heavy with sketchbooks.

 

. . . . .

"She looks like a dead fish," Nao muttered in exasperation and chucked her paintbrush aside, deciding that she had tried enough for one day. The class should be coming to an end any minute now anyway, a fact made even more apparent by the almost-empty classroom. Yasui-sensei had never been particularly strict with the exact minute her students left, so long as they got sufficient work done and made sure to clean up after themselves.

Nao scrutinized the painting, nose wrinkling at its lack of notable progress. She seemed to be having one of those off-days where everything she attempted to draw came out looking flat or, worse, like a disease of some sort. And she had started off so well too.

"You know, you're going to get wrinkles really early if you keep making faces like that."

Nao's head came up just in time to see Matsuo Reina dumping a clarinet case and a large leather tote in satin gold on the table before planting herself on a stool with a smirk. Nao rolled her eyes at the amused expression on the other girl's face but didn't deign to give a verbal reply. She heard comments like that from Reina practically on a daily basis. Instead, she moved towards the sink to wash the paint off her palette and brushes.

"You're here early," Nao said with a glance back as the familiar chimes rang through the campus to signal the beginning of lunch hour. The few remaining students shuffled out, obviously eager for the break after a long morning of classes.

"There's not all that much to do in Music on the first day," Reina said, shrugging. Then she tilted her head, her thick black hair swaying from the movement, to get a better look at the painting. "You were here all morning, weren't you? I should've known when you didn't show up for the opening ceremony."

Nao shot her an offended look. "I wasn't here _all_ morning." When a corner of Reina's perfectly glossed lips crawled higher, she rolled her eyes again and amended, "Just some parts of the morning."

Her best friend let out a small chuckle. She was probably shaking her head too, Nao guessed as she gathered her remaining supplies and began putting her things away in a crate stored under the table. She had spent so much of her free time here the previous year doing independent work that the art teachers ended up allowing her to keep her own private workspace.

Reina turned back to the painting, her lips pulled down slightly at the edges in a thoughtful frown. "It's only the first day of school and you're already cutting classes. Shouldn't you try to attend classes more often now that you're in high school?"

Nao sighed dramatically in mock remorse. "Yes, you're right of course. We mustn't miss out on all the greatness Eitoku's senior high division has to offer."

She grinned, waiting for Reina to say something along the lines of _'Nao, you do know that every time you sigh like that, you're taking away a minute of your life'_ but what she got instead was a noncommittal noise that sounded like it could be a laugh, and then, "Oh really? That's good."

Hands stilling, Nao glanced up from her crate on the ground where she still knelt and found Reina smoothing down her shoulder-length hair with one pale, manicured hand while the other flipped through one of Nao's sketchbooks. She paused, instantly wary. If the odd response hadn't told her something was off, this certainly did.

To anyone else, Reina probably gave off the perfect image of someone who was bored, though slightly intrigued by whatever she saw in the sketchbook, but Nao knew better. Reina wasn't the type to ever look casual unless she consciously made the effort to be just so. Besides, smoothing down her hair was something that Reina only did when she was feeling tense or self-conscious.

It was the only warning she received. And then Nao heard him, a minuscule second just before she saw him.

"Excuse me, is-"

The sight of Kurosawa walking towards them met her full on, and her breath went in sharp. He stopped abruptly, the only sign that he had been just as surprised at seeing her.

"What are you doing here?" she bit out before she could stop herself. But _this_ was her territory, and he had another thing coming if he thought he was going to intimidate her here of all places.

"I'm looking for Yasui-sensei," he replied, tone mild like he was commenting on the weather.

She gritted her teeth. "As you can see, she isn't here." Then, unable to resist, Nao added, "Maybe you should try _next door_?"

Both his eyebrows lifted minutely. "Thank you," he said blandly, with a pause long enough for the gap to be noticeable. "Perhaps I will."

Despite his words, he made no move to leave at all, and Nao narrowed her eyes, half entertaining the idea of demanding outright for him to get out. A rustle of paper derailed her attention, and she noted peripherally, Reina turning a page of the sketchbook, appearing for all intents and purposes like nothing was amiss. The quiet, mundane motion was like a slap to the face, enough to jolt Nao out of her anger, and she immediately clamped her mouth shut.

She turned away, this time resolutely keeping her back to Kurosawa as she finished packing up her things with a calm she didn't feel. What the hell was the matter with her? She was supposed to be good at this - at ignoring people and not giving them the reaction they wanted. Giving _no_ reaction at all was supposed to be second nature by now. It was what she and Reina had long perfected and done on a daily basis after all.

But then he spoke again just as she was moving her painting, and all thoughts of ignoring him abandoned her.

"Is that yours?"

Nao felt her hackles stood on end. She whirled around, but the odd look on his face caught her off guard and whatever she had been about to say ended up lodged in her throat. He wasn't even paying any attention to her. Instead, his eyes focused intently on a point beyond her shoulder.

Her painting.

She stepped forward, deliberately blocking his view, and tilted her chin in challenge. "Yes, it is."

The whole of his attention shifted back to her. Something flashed in his eyes, too fast for her to discern its meaning, but she sensed his surprise all the same when he spoke, "You're the artist."

"Yes, I am," she snapped. "What, disappointed you can't play teacher and give me some stupid lecture about not touching other people's artwork again?"

A myriad of expressions crossed his face, each seemingly warring with each other for control like he couldn't decide how he felt, until finally, he settled on staring at her incredulously. "You thought I was a teacher?"

Nao could hear the laughter in his words, and try as she might, she couldn't keep the flush from creeping up her face. But before she could reply with something suitably scathing, he added, "This morning-" He stopped suddenly and tilted his head, like he had never seen her before. "You don't know who I am."

That yanked her right out of her embarrassment. Goodness mother, he was arrogant. "Oh sure I do, _Kurosawa-san_ ," she said snidely, tone heavy with sarcasm. "Watabe-sensei made it obvious enough. Now if your highness will excuse me, I've got lunch to go to."

She spun around and snatched up her bag. Reina passed her the sketchbook wordlessly and stood, tote and clarinet case already in hand as though she had been waiting all along.

"Sure. Enjoy your lunch, Ishida." He had waited until she was just passing him before he spoke.

Nao went stock still, her head reeled up to stare at his in shock.

How did he know her name?

His expression revealed nothing - only dark eyes meeting hers, with eyelashes lowered, promising hidden meaning. A hysterical part of her noted the unexpected flecks of golden brown in eyes that she had previously thought to be black as coal. The hairs on Nao's neck rose with no small amount of deja vu, and she wrenched her gaze away, feet already moving with the need to get as far from him as possible.

She turned and ran smack right into Yasui-sensei at the door.

"Oh, careful there, Nao," the teacher said with a laugh as she reached out to steady them both. Much to Nao's dismay, Yasui-sensei steered her right back into the room. "Isao! What are you doing here again? I told you you didn't have to worry about loading the sculpture."

"It's much too heavy to lift on your own, Yasui-sensei." Kurosawa, to Nao's surprise, looked apologetic. "Besides, it seems I have another meeting later and might not be able to make it today. I'm sorry, Sensei."

Yasui-sensei waved away the apology as her eyes lit up. "Oh, that reminds me. Isao, I got you some help." Then she turned towards her. "Nao?"

She jumped a little at being addressed so suddenly. "Yes?"

"Good thing you're still here. Let me introduce you." The teacher gestured at Kurosawa, and a horrible sinking sensation began to creep up her gut. The last thing she wanted was to be introduced! "This is Kurosawa Isao, the ceramics student aide. Isao, meet Ishida Nao, your new partner. She's more than capable of handling the painting-related duties, but I would like you to familiarize her with the ceramics end of things as well."

Nao froze. _What?_

She was aware that Kurosawa must've murmured some inane greeting but it was all she could do to stare at Yasui-sensei in what she hoped was well-disguised horror. This really could not be happening.

Besides. Kurosawa, an _F4_ , a student aide. An _art_ student aide. It had to be a joke. Yasui-sensei did often have a questionable sense of humor.

The art teacher went right on talking. "As for the sculpture, I already had Nao help me load it earlier, so you needn't have come here at all." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Go on and get out of here, eat or do whatever it is that you young people do during lunch. Sometimes I think you must be older than I am with how much you worry!"

"That's only because you're especially youthful, Sensei." Kurosawa said it with a perfectly straight face, but his tone was so obviously indulgent that it roused Nao out of her stupor for a moment only to gape at him.

Yasui-sensei didn't seem to have the same problem understanding him, for she gave him a loud whack on the arm with a dry paintbrush. "Hmph. That's what you get for teasing an old woman."

A corner of Kurosawa's lips kicked up, and Nao frowned. It was unsettling in ways she couldn't pinpoint, this image of him bantering, of all things, with her favorite teacher, of all people.

Then without warning, he shifted his amused gaze in her direction, head inclined in a half-nod of acknowledgement. "Ishida."

She stiffened. "Kurosawa."

"You have my thanks for helping Yasui-sensei load the sculpture then."

Her eyes narrowed a fraction. There was a double meaning hidden there somewhere, Nao was sure of it. "No thanks necessary. As you've said yourself, I was merely helping Yasui-sensei, something I'm always happy to do." The _'No thanks from you and I wasn't helping you!'_ went without saying.

"Hm. I see."

_Don't say it, Nao. This is neither the time nor place for it!_

"Though, of course," she added with a slow vindicated smile, and there was no stopping it now, "it did mean I had to touch the sculpture. In fact, with how heavy it turned out to be, I had no choice but to wrap my arms all over it."

Kurosawa's lips twitched, though she wasn't sure whether it was from amusement or irritation. She hoped it was the latter. "Ah, I have to admit I'm a little surprised, Ishida. You have such a mean throwing arm, I didn't expect the sculpture to give you any trouble at all after that impressive show of strength earlier."

Heat shot up her face at the blatant reference to her gum wrapper throwing blunder during English class, and it took all of her self-control to not react. Not that it mattered when her face felt and probably looked like it was about to burst into flames.

The art teacher looked between the two, an eyebrow raised in obvious bemusement, but thankfully didn't ask.

Nao really didn't hang around much longer to find out.

 

. . . . .

It was some time after she and Reina had turned down a hallway leading towards the student lockers that Reina finally looked at her curiously. It was the first indication that she had indeed been watching everything that happened back in the art room rather closely. Honestly, Nao would have been more surprised if she hadn't.

If there was one talent Reina had, it was the ability to observe her surroundings without giving anything away - well, to someone who didn't know where to look anyway. No one faked casual nonchalance better than Reina did. And for someone whose looks, in Nao's opinion, were rather striking, she had this uncanny way of making people forget she was there at all.

Her soft voice was laced with humor when Reina spoke, "Do I even want to know what that was all about?" Laughter tinkered in the air, and her shoulders quivered with it. "Or perhaps I should ask how you thought Kurosawa Isao was a teacher? I don't think I've ever seen you so... agitated."

Nao scowled but ignored the jibe. She'd tell Reina about her spectacular morning eventually, but she really didn't want to relive it right then. "Of course _you_ would know who he is."

"You would know, too, if you had gone to the opening ceremony this morning instead of staying cooped up with your paintings. He gave a pretty remarkable speech, and even you wouldn't be able to miss that."

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the F4 spiel," she muttered, not fooled in the least. She'd bet all her paintbrushes Reina had known long before any such ceremony.

Reina was by far the least social person Nao had ever met, and yet she seemed to always have detailed information on the most random people. She often wondered if the girl actually made an effort to find out all those obscure information, or if she was just exceptionally observant.

"Nao," Reina shook her head slowly, a corner of her lips quirking, and Nao had the impression that Reina couldn't decide whether to be amused or exasperated. "He's not just an F4. He's the _leader_ of F4, the Student Council President, _and_ the Student Body Representative. You're probably the only person in this entire school who doesn't know who he is."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Isao will not be one of those insane perfect-at-everything-without-trying male manga character. I promise the whole leader, president, rep thing isn't just there for kicks!


End file.
